


You're a beauty, a luminary (in my face)

by cumjar



Series: Eureka [1]
Category: Popee the Performer (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blood and Injury, F/M, Injury, Literally got inspiration from "Skater Boy" so you know what type of fic this is, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Muteness, Non-Graphic Violence, Punk, Sign Language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:01:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27910435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cumjar/pseuds/cumjar
Summary: In which a leather-studded punk and a starving artist learn to love and be love in the delicate touch of hands to bruises. Veins still thrumming with adrenaline and head swimming, Popee stumbles his way into Eepop's dorm seeking companionship and the soft care of another.In which Popee embraces the warmth of loving and being loved.
Relationships: Popee/Mirror Popee (Popee the Performer)
Series: Eureka [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2052024
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	You're a beauty, a luminary (in my face)

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic on AO3, and my first works for the PTP fandom! Fuck off if you're a kedapopee <3

“Fuck, dude!” Ono called, the bemused expression stretching across her face betraying the mock-concern in her voice as she let out a low whistle at the sight of the aftermath of yet another drunken altercation, pulling her face mask down her chin to beam at him. “You’re bleedin’ real bad, shit- You know, really should stop pickin’ fights with bigger guys, blondie!” Her sharp grin only grew with the glare he shot her way, lifting a hand to wipe at the dribbles of blood pouring from his now-throbbing nose. She chuckled wryly, scuffing the tips of her boots on a crack in the pavement, “damn, Popee, if looks could kill I’d be fucked. Too bad ‘bout the bar, huh?”

The bar had been a regular place for both Popee and Onomadek, especially since Kedamono wouldn’t be caught dead outside anywhere _but_ the library as he poured over the piles of papers he was supposed to grade, hands twitching with either caffeine overdose or stress as he raked them through mussed purple hair, “Ah, Popee, Hey! Uh, m- maybe next time, okay? I just have so much-” Popee usually ended up walking away at that point, not caring much for the pathetic waver in his voice. After all, _he_ was the one who signed up for every TA position in the school, so it wasn’t Popee’s fault even as Keda’s puppy-eyed optimism fell away into red-rimmed, teary gazes flickering over piles of textbooks. 

Besides, the waver in his voice gave him away - it was more so the fact that Onomadek was invited, really. It’s not like he didn’t _get it_ , because they’d hated each other because Onomadek’s scowl had pissed him off, but her smile as she peered at him from under her irritating, overgrown bangs as if she knew him was much, much worse. They’d mellowed out plenty after going for each other’s throats on the front yard of some party Popee didn’t care much to remember and waking up with matching black eyes to match their aesthetics. After that, the grin on her face was still irritating, but at least he could return it as they locked eyes mid-barfight. 

Even then, It didn’t matter anymore. The bar had been gross - typical, for the part of town it was in - and crowded with people not worth knowing - one of which had been some greasy asshole with a sneer and beady black eyes that made Popee’s blood boil when they made eye contact. With an obnoxious comment about his jacket thrown his way had been the conduit, and Popee was lunging for him with a grin akin to bearing his teeth, rearing an arm back to slam a punch to break the asshole’s nose. He had gotten a few good hits before hands were on him, Onomadek’s cackling laughter cutting off with an offended snarl as she was (presumably) dragged away as well. He shouted threats at the asshat’s back as he retreated, voice breaking as he lashed out indiscriminately. 

“Yeah,” he finally said, voice rasping in the back of his throat with a wet garble before he spat a wad of bloody phlegm on the pavement. "Too bad." Bruise-blue eyes glanced around the alleyway, licking his split lip as a burnt-out neon sign washed them and the seedy alleyway in grungy red light that made the specks of blood clinging to Popee’s bruised knuckles look dark, near black. He scoffed as she raised her eyebrow at him, wincing as he ran his tongue over his teeth, prodding at a now-loose molar, “Whatever. It was just a shitshow. I don’t fucking regret it. Don't think you do, either.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back on his heels as the mechanical cat tail poking out of his jeans twitched with annoyance. “And ‘m heading out.”

Onomadek laughed again, reaching out to clap him on the shoulder - he deftly dodged it with a glare, and she just shrugged, pulling a cigarette from her pocket and lighting up. “Suit yourself! Should probably go t’ a fuckin’ hospital with th’ damn blows you took t’ the head, but-” she leaned against the wall and lit up, grinning a blueish cloud of smoke between her jagged teeth, “She’s got a good first aid kit, should really give ‘er a visit and give her a heart attack.”

Popee’s face blazed for a beat before he made a choking noise in the back of his throat, shoulders sagging, “oh, shut it. Ain’t gonna-” He paused, crossing his arms and instinctively regretting it as something in his ribs gave a distinct _twang_ somewhere in his chest, his breath catching for a beat before he coughed bitterly. “Don’t need advice from somebody on their- what- third rebound? Fuck this.” He turned on his heel and strode away, gnawing on the inside of his cheek as heat bloomed over his face, a hand ghosting over the pocket where his phone hid away, where _her_ contact information was. 

“Tell ‘er that I says hello, loverboy!”

Popee lifted a hand over his head to flip her off as he limped away, grumbling a few choice words to himself under his breath. She let out another obnoxious cackle, and Popee had half a mind to turn around to clobber her, but the distinct ache of fatigue settling into his bones, throbbing bruises wilting across his skin, blood still bubbling from his nose with each breath- Sure, he’s had worse, but it was enough to make him stand down for now. 

Ono’s always had freakishly good hearing, anyway.   
  


* * *

Eepop was, maybe, just a little lonely. 

With it being much, much too late for her to text her younger brother - still in grade school, but bright company nonetheless - and too embarrassing to contact her mom, who had insisted with a raise of her eyebrows that Eepop feel comfortable reaching out to her for _anything_ at _any time_ as she placed down Eepop’s suitcase with a glance around her dorm room. Her mother was... Well, it was her mother - it's not like Eepop could talk to her, at least, not like she talks to Popee or Ono or even her brother. The blonde sighed, couldn’t help but wallow in the stir of anxious butterflies in her stomach, her chest tightening as her gaze flitted over the little pieces of herself scattered across her desk: a pencil with the eraser gnawed off, empty candy wrappers, the glossy surface of a photograph left upside down. 

The air is still heavy with the scent of city rain and condensation that sticks to her windows, sticks to the side of a now cold cup of herbal tea she hadn’t cared to drink, sticks to the hair clinging to her temples when she runs a hand through her bangs, hesitating for a beat before she reaches out for the polaroid. It was from the beginning of the year, a photo memorializing when she was fresh-faced and new to the school, cheeks flushed with a wavering smile as Popee’s arm was slung around her shoulders, his own cheek pressed against hers. 

It was the type of picture he’d be furious at the sight of, his hair cropped short in lieu of the twin ponytails he favored now, but the type of picture she cherished. A reminder of memories, a symbol of time stretching in their favor. They had been together then, they’re together now. Her fingers ghost over his face as her lips twitch into a soft smile, tracing his expression with the edge of her fingernail before the sharp buzz of her phone startles her from her admiration - she keeps her eyes on the photo as she pulls her phone from her sweater pocket, glances away only when Popee’s name pops up on her screen. 

Popee texted just as he spoke, in a frenzied rush as if he weren’t able to get it out in a rush, he was in danger of being interrupted. A furious rush of ‘heys’ and indecipherable emojis fill her screen, and Eepop can’t suppress the smile that crawls over her face at the sight of it, pulling her legs to sit cross-legged in her desk chair.

_wanna open your window??_

Eepop blinked, narrowing her eyes in momentary confusion - her dorm had a window overlooking the campus’ side streets, sure, but she was three stories off the pavement. There was no way he-

_seriously, eepop, it’s cold out. Let me in??_

He did, because of course he did. 

There was a sudden tap at her window loud enough to make Eepop shriek, her phone clattering to the floor as her hands surged to cover her racing heart. Her eyes were wide, mouth open in a gape as the blood drained from her face. Eepop jumped to her feet, her desk chair’s wheels shrieking loudly as it clattered behind her, and her eyes stung with tears as she rushed to the window. Just outside, bathed in pale lamplight, was his familiar form silhouetted by the dull streetlights outside. Her fingers shook as they fumbled at the window latch, tearing it open with a cold gust of blustery wind that fluttered her curtains and bit at her rosy cheeks. 

Popee’s eyes fall on hers and his cheeks are pink as he grins, the dried blood crusting on his upper lip cracking with the movement. “Watch out, Eepop!” He crowed, climbing his way over her cluttered nightstand - a small stack of books fall to the floor, her notebook opening with a rustle of pages, and he looks absolutely radiant as he closes the foot between them, shaking choppy blonde bangs from his eyes - one of which is swelling closed with a blooming bruise. Her hands cover her mouth as she looks down at him with growing horror, her socked feet curling in the soft down of her plush carpet. 

Blood splattered dark against his shirt, rust-red amongst the spikes and pins of his gaudy pink leather jacket, bruised knuckles stark against pale skin - his fingernails were dark, chipped fingernail polish clinging to nails bitten to the quick, the acrid smell of cigarettes - Ono’s, she knew - made her flinch back away from him instinctively. Popee, despite it all, looked upbeat - his eyes were distant, glazed… 

Was he drunk?

Eepop’s fingers twitched with hesitation before she finally began to sign, palms upright, shaking back and forth- _”What-”_

Popee reached out to grab her hands, his fingers like ice, but his smile was broad as he stopped her oncoming panic with, “Y’know I’ve gotten worse, Eepop! I don’t- let’s not talk ‘bout it, alright?” There was another gust of wind, a sniffle from Eepop, and he jolted back to reality - stepping away to close the window and lock it, double-checking it, before turning to look around her room. It was minimal, it always was, always would be purely from habit - since, after all, there’s no use having a lot of knick-knacks if you moved around, the few exceptions being the easel perched in the corner, and a stack of old sketchbooks of different shapes jammed haphazardly on the bookshelf.

Popee’s eyes shot across her dorm room as if he was seeing it for the first time, his boots tracking something - mud, hopefully - across the concrete floor. Eepop followed after him as he sauntered around, holding her hands face-level to get directly in his eyeline as she frantically signed suggestions for him to sit down, flitting signs asking " _what happened,"_ eyebrows furrowed together in concern, finger-spelling, asking if it was _"Onomadek again, or-"_

Popee stops by her desk, smile shrinking thoughtfully as he reached down to pick up a familiar polaroid. 

* * *

Popee figured Eepop’s reaction wouldn’t be good, considering what he had seen when he crouched by a dingy puddle to check his reflection, but it seemed like each of their meetings always started with her face twisted in genuine worry, tears pooling in blue eyes as her hands darted over his form like she wasn’t sure exactly where to even start. He looks at the photo in his hand, a bloodied fingerprint smudged against the crisp white border of the polaroid before he nodded, lifting the photo for her to see, “glad to see y’kept this photo, too.” Eepop had always been the prettier one to look at in the couple, rosy-cheeked and lean, a head of gentle honey-blonde curls falling into blue eyes made brighter by the happy crinkle in the corners. Even now as she gazed at him like he were a man possessed, swimming inside a hoodie a few sizes oversized, a cute turned up nose that twitched when she thought - the rounded curves of her baby face making her look almost cherubic. 

There were two of them, and thus two photocopies. Kedamono had insisted on each of them getting a copy with a wave, his hands fidgeting with the camera around his neck. 

_“It’s yours! Er, both of yours, to keep! I can take more pictures for myself, don’t worry about it, guys. Just- uh,” Kedamono’s toothy grin twitched, waned, and turned nervous as his dark eyes narrowed shut. He shook his head back and forth, wringing his hands, “Well, just cherish it! Supposedly these are the- well, they’re supposed to be the best years of your life, so…”_

_“We don’t need a lecture.” Popee had drawled in response to get an elbow to the side by Eepop, now gaping at him because of his rudeness towards a friend, “What!? It’s true- get enough of that shit from my dad already, Eepop.” Her eyebrows knitted together and he relented with a sigh, looking back at Kedamono, “Look, thanks for th’ picture, Keda, but we’ve got shit to do.”_

Popee sighed, eyes on the photo as he murmured, “I just needed to see you, y'know?” Then quickly, “sorry. I didn't mean to- Jus’...” He didn’t have an excuse this time, a quip, a shiny new topic to dangle in front of her face to distract her from how he felt, however raw and dangerous it felt. Eepop made a worried noise in response, her hands warm when they skim against the skin of his neck as they gently help him shrug his treasured leather jacket off. The parts not covered were a loud pink, the sleeves covered in red stripes and the leather studded with spikes. Popee watches her run a hand over the jacket as she draped it over the back of her desk chair, the admiration and fondness in his stomach settling into familiar warmth when she looks up to meet his gaze. 

_”Sit down?”_ She tapped her fingers in the sign before pointing to her bed with as much authority that Eepop could possibly muster, something that Popee couldn't help but find endlessly endearing. _”I have a first aid kit-”_ Eepop finger spells the word before motioning under her bed, _”You look-”_ She hesitates, looking down at her feet shyly before lifting her hands to sign in front of her bowed head, _”Bad. Really bad. I want to help. Please."_

“Oh, that’s real nice, Eepop, thanks for that.” Popee chuckled, the words not having any venom in them as he sat on the edge of her bed. Eepop’s eyes didn’t look any less sad, even when the corners of her lips twitched upwards, kindly humoring him - she quickly began to root underneath it, and he made a face at the sight of the overstuffed first-aid kit. Normally he’d chide her for being over-prepared, seemingly stockpiling supplies for every situation in the book, but it always managed to come in handy for whatever beaten up strays stumbled Eepop’s way, and considering her ties with both Onomadek and Popee? It was more often than not that she was anxiously fretting over someone. 

“It’s… I might’ve lost my temper with someone, just- just some asshole made a comment, I threw a punch, Ono joined in- she’s fine, by the way.” He hastily tacked on at the alarmed look Eepop shot him as she opened the first aid kit, rooting through packages of disposable sanitizing wipes and bandages before reaching out to him, kneeling on the blankets next to him. Eepop’s hands were soft but sure as they grasped at the worn hem of his undershirt, raising her eyebrows a little in question, silently seeking permission - which she got with a nod. 

Popee winced at the press of her hands against a bruise, burying his face into the crook of her neck to press a gentle kiss to it, eyes slipping shut as he shakily inhaled the smell of bar soap and the chalky smell of watercolor that seemed to cling to her as stubbornly as the paint did under her fingernails. Eepop nudged her head against his, her eyes focused began to survey the injuries littering his thin torso, wrapped around his forearms, scraped over his knuckles - he hissed at the sting of an alcohol wipe against them and Eepop flinched back as if struck, gaping at him. “It’s not a big deal, Eepop,” he said, holding his hand out to her to continue dabbing at the scrapes, “Y’should see the other guy, jeez, I mean, pretty sure I might’ve broken his nose. No way in hell he’s gonna ever make comments ‘bout anyone else with his nose lookin’ all crooked.”

Eepop dropped the now-bloody wipes on her blanket before shaking her head, her front teeth poking out to gnaw at her bottom lip, _”You said you’d say out of trouble.”_ She chided, wiggling back to frown at Popee, her hands crossing in an ‘x’ in front of her face. _”What about class tomorrow?”_ She paused to pluck a roll of bandages from the kit, quickly unwinding it. He watched her work, gaze detached from his own body, his own injuries - skin stark and sallow against her warm, healthy flush. They were an odd couple to be sure. 

“What about it? It’s not like I’m failing- I’m top of my class!” Popee shrugged, shifting closer to her, “It’s fine, Eepop. It’s just boring ‘cause I know so much more than the other stem morons, more than the professor, even.” Eepop didn’t look at him as she gently wrapped the bandages around his knuckles. He could practically feel the waves of anxiety curling off of her hunched form, still chewing on her bottom lip, and Popee reached out with his now-bandaged hand to gently grab her chin and tilt her head upwards to meet his gaze. “Promise ya that I’m fine, you’re here, after all.” 

With that, Eepop seemed to relent, sighing in defeat. She grimaced as he pulled back after giving her a quick kiss, tasting metallic blood clinging to his lips still and not being entirely sure whose it was. It was his secret weapon, considering she couldn’t help but smile as a pretty pink that crept across the bridge of her nose and cheeks. _”You smell like cigarettes.”_ She pinched the tip of her nose as she tipped her head against Popee’s shoulder.

Popee’s smile turned crooked at that, “Y’like it, though.” His cheeks are pink as he tiredly toed his boots off, kicking them into some forgotten corner of her room before flopping backwards to lay back with a yawn wide enough to show off tonsillitis scars, pulling her to lay next to him. Eepop lets out a soft ‘eep!’ at that, shifting on her side to face him. 

Her eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, lips parted, but she nods. _”Yes. I like you, Popee."_ The press of her quilt against her cheek was soft in the way it warbled her smile, the look in her eyes delicate and yet searing as it seemed to stare straight through him, through the layers of bruised skin and scabs like she were looking at something beautiful, and the tumble of her shower-damp hair making his heart catch in his throat as he grumbles a dismissive response under his breath, setting his jaw stubbornly. She lifts her hands again after a moment to sign when Popee dragged his mouth back to hers. After a moment of surprise, she kissed back with a pleased hum, her hands cradling his jawline like he were something precious and delicate. Here, right now, Popee felt so _loved_ that he thought he was fit to burst in a spray of shrapnel and fire from the anticipation and warmth thrumming in him, something that was so much for him to handle. It was a constant warring fued of softness and the devotion and the joy of feeling whole, maybe for the first time in his entire life. It said so much of why he went soft and pliant under the soft attention of the other blonde, the soft curve of her smile and the drag of uncalloused hands, artist’s hands, over a broken, battered body, shedding blood-stained clothes and surrounding himself in the soft warmth of her skin pressed against his. 

Popee kissed her as hard as he could, silently pleading that she felt the same, silently pleading that he was able to communicate everything in that one simple gesture as Eepop’s clever hands weaved gently through his hair to tug him closer, pulling back as her forehead tipped against his. They didn’t go any further than that, not with the scent of watered-down scotch on his breath and the bruises marring his body, something both of them were more than fine with - his voice low and soft as he wished her a good night. Popee was smiling and relaxed as they pressed together under the covers, the low ache of his bruises, the throb of his ribs forgotten as Eepop’s eyes slipped shut and she drifted away. Popee found himself curled up against her, his head resting on her shoulder - he was wearing an old t-shirt of hers, and it smelt soft and sweet, smelt of soft linen and mild deodorant, like the smell of her hair he had smelled earlier in her embrace. 

It was silent except for the soft patter of morning rain on her window, streetlight shadows cast over the muddied footprints in her carpet, the contents of her bedside table scattered across the floor. Popee drifted off as he listened to her even breaths, the world outside waking up with the crawl of morning commuters and students dragging themselves from their dorms, soft voices in the hallway just outside the door. Popee couldn’t promise her that this visit would be the last of its kind, couldn’t promise her complete softness - normalcy without the mar of grungy streetlight gleaming off of his studded jacket, Ono grinning by his side, and couldn’t promise her that their kisses from now on wouldn’t be tinged with the taste of metal and the bittersweetness of finding love in two broken halves.

For now, however? He didn’t need to promise anything as they drifted off to sleep with their legs tangled together, her arms holding him tight and her heart thudding soft in his ear. 


End file.
